


Unlikely Friends (gift five)

by crazyparakiss



Series: A Kiss Christmas, December Gifts 2017 [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Grudders, Pre-Slash, if you blink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-24 05:31:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13207005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazyparakiss/pseuds/crazyparakiss
Summary: Boxing had been Draco’s idea.





	Unlikely Friends (gift five)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zeitgeistic (faire_weather)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/faire_weather/gifts).



> Happy early birthday, dear, and a belated Happy Christmas! 
> 
> I don't own these things, characters, etc.. This is definitely one of the rarest pairs I've ever written, but you lot know I enjoy a challenge!

Boxing had been Draco’s idea. Oddly enough, seeing as how Draco still has tendencies to hate all forms of Mugglery. Greg doesn’t have much choice; he’s got nothing in the Wizarding World, no family now that the war is done, no friends really; all of them scattering to save what they have left of their reputations. 

 

Draco had been the only one to stay around, long enough to give Greg an idea of how to move forward. “They’ve a sport that would be perfect for a man like you.” Draco had muttered, eyes distant when he added. “I would love to disappear, become someone else. You can, Greg, take the opportunity.” A few neat scotches later and Draco had told him more about boxing. 

 

That’s how Greg winds up in a Muggle gym, in grey jogging bottoms (weird, loose trousers...Muggles), watching as blokes circle one another in a ring. Jabbing at each other when they think they’ve got an opening, and it is intriguing to see people have a proper fight without wands. More barbaric in a way, and Greg enjoys this sport already. 

 

“How can I help you,” a tall, burly bloke with beady blue eyes enquires as he approaches where Greg is standing, stiff and a bit awkward. 

 

“I came to box,” Greg sounds moronic in his own ears, but this bloke gives him a welcoming grin that helps ease his anxieties. “Friend of mine told me it might be the sport for me,” he adds, a little more sure this time. 

 

“You look the part,” he tells Greg before turning, to shout at a bloke across the room. “Piers, come show this man around, then get his weight and measurements.” Turning back to Greg he grins again, “Once we’ve got you fitted up we can show you the basics.” 

 

“No giving anyone a good pounding today, then,” Greg tries, seeing if he can provoke a laugh out of this man. 

 

It works, but the grin he wears is wolfish when he responds. “Depends on the sort of pounding you’re looking to do, I s’pose,” there’s a wink for added cheek. Greg, unused to being winked at, shuffles a bit. “The name’s Dudley, by the way,” this Dudley tells him. 

 

“Dudley Dursley,” Greg asks, remembering the name on the window. 

 

“The one and only, thank God, my mum--bless her--did enough damage with just the one child,” after that’s left his mouth Dudley appears momentarily chastised. As if he’s remembering something unpleasant and feeling a tad guilty over that thought. Greg could barely work complex spells, let alone dig into another’s mind, so he’s not able to read what the expression is for. It’s gone in a moment, regardless, and the bright smile is back. “Anyway, it’s good to have you here...” he trails off, waiting for Greg to supply him with his own name. 

 

“Gregory Goyle, but you can call me Greg.” His own grin is tight when he adds, “My father is the only one who ever called me Gregory.” The name brings his own horrible memories to mind, and something tells him that Dudley can commiserate. 

 

“Well, Greg,” Dudley nods as Piers--a tall, lanky, mouse-faced man--appears. “I think you and I will get on just fine.” 

 

Something in Greg makes him agree. He sticks out his hand, in offering for a shake, and Dudley stares at the gesture. A bit dumbfounded, it seems, but a slow, private smile, stretches his face when he takes the hand. “Welcome, mate.” 


End file.
